Golden Girl
by wjobsessed
Summary: FINAL CHAPTER UP! Hunger and champagne are not a good mix while undercover. :
1. Chapter 1

**I have had this plot in my mind for awhile. It's nice to finally get it here.**

**This fic is dedicated to Xeen Cyr and her excellent story "...And Have A Ball."**

**There is something very fun about Peter &Olivia undercover. I wish there were more stories about it*hint*.**

**Totally unbetaed. And I do not own anything to do with FOX, Bad Robot, or Fringe.**

**"The Scientific Group on Methodologies for the Safety Evaluation of Chemicals" really exists but I know nothing about them and assume they are wonderful, so please do not sue me.**

**Sometimes undercover ops do not go as planned.**

Golden Girl

"I'll check us in, alright? Maybe you can find us some coffee?" FBI Special Agent Olivia Dunham did not wait for a reply. She turned toward the hotel's front desk practically skipping to the counter, long auburn-colored tresses flying everywhere in her haste.

FBI Civilian Consultant Peter Bishop turned away from where Olivia had stood, giving the grandiose hotel lobby a once-over and a nod of approval. _Not bad for the Feds,_ he thought. As he continued his visual scan for a coffee bar he saw and felt numerous patrons look at him and then turn away.

Peter let out a breath of annoyance. He had told the Boston FBI's undercover expert at least twice it was too much, but Agent Phelps had insisted his disguise was perfect for this mission. With Peter's hair dyed a brassy dirty-blonde he looked like an older version of that bodacious character Pacey Witter from Dawson's Creek. Except Peter's eyes were now blue instead of their original piercing green, thanks to government-issued, soft, extended-wear contacts.

He had barely spotted the black and silver urns in the distance when Olivia grabbed his free arm and yelled "C'mon. It's already started. We have to change!" With Peter in tow Olivia broke into a sprint for the nearest elevator. As if on cue the elevator doors opened and the two settled with their carry-ons into the left rear corner as the car quickly filled. Peter could feel Olivia's chest pressed against his side. He sighed and thought about how they had ended up here.

-Flashback-

Peter and Olivia sat on opposite sides of the diner booth silently staring at Charlie Francis while the CD jukebox mumbled a rap song.

"Broyles?! Are you sure? How reliable is this intel?" Olivia Dunham's voice wavered, laced with surprise.

"Pretty reliable. Yeah. It's shocking isn't it? All the hard work Phillip Broyles has done for the Bureau over the years and it turns out he's a fucking mole."

"But are we _sure_?" Olivia practically shouted. She couldn't believe that another person she had trusted with her life was a traitor.

"Some undercovers in Atlanta saw him about a week ago, in an exchange. They have a picture of him handing over a USB."

"Wow." Peter Bishop took another swallow of his beer and sat back."What do you need _us_ for?"

"If I weren't tied up in Springfield with the Williams' case I'd do it, but.."

"What do you _need_, Charlie?" Olivia leaned over the table toward Charlie getting in his face.

"OK then." Charlie flipped both locks on his briefcase and extracted a packet of papers. He looked both ways to make sure no one was paying them any attention. Then he handed each of them a packet of papers. "Two days from now there is a meeting of the Scientific Group on Methodologies for the Safety Evaluation of Chemicals in Washington. We are hearing through satellite chatter that Middle Eastern delegates will be there. After the keynote speaker there's a dinner and then a dance at the Kennedy Center." Charlie sighed. "Agent Peters in London somehow intercepted a correspondence from Yemen to one of Brolyes' email addresses advising him to rendezvous at the dance."

"To what? Hand over information?"Olivia asked.

"We think so. We suspect Broyles is getting ready to sell Bureau information to some radical group in Yemen. Maybe even to their government."

"God," Peter said taking the last sip of his beer.

Charlie locked eyes with Olivia. His voice turned low and loving. "Livvie, I need you to go there and watch for Broyles to show up. See if he's really a scum and if our intelligence is correct."

Peter sat up straighter, looking a little defensive. Charlie turned his eyes to him. "You too, Peter.

You're good at reading situations and people, with your background...you'll go together."

"But Charlie," Olivia interrupted, "Broyles will recognize us!"

"Not when Phelps gets done with you two, he won't."

Peter set his empty beer bottle on the table. "You'll give us back-up?"

"Sure. I'm putting four agents on it. They've already been briefed."

A silence hung in the air over the table, as they all focused on their inner thoughts.

"So we're good then?" Charlie asked.

Peter and Olivia looked at each other and then nodded.

"I'm sure I don't need to remind you to keep this quiet. Nothing goes through the Bureau. _I_ will get you your plane tickets, ID's, etcetera." Charlie sat back and gave them a weak smile. "Well, congratulations you two. You are unofficially undercover."

"Fantastic," Peter replied with his best snark.

Charlie started to get up signaling the end of the meeting. "I'll be in touch."


	2. Chapter 2

**Back with another installment. Thanks to all of you who read and reviewed. It made my day.**

**I still do not own anything to do with Fringe, and this is still unbetaed.**

**Peter and Olivia get ready.**

Chapter 2

Olivia could hear Peter running water in his adjoining room. They were actually more like adjoining suites-lavishly decorated with two queen-sized beds and a living room area in each.

She peered into the mirror for the third time in five minutes. It was impossible to accept the image staring back at her. A red-haired Olivia now, with piercing blue eyes thanks to the FBI contacts, and a 70's style dress with a generous amount of cleavage straight out of "Swingtown."

"Crap," she said out loud to the mirror. She couldn't believe she was expected to hunt for Broyles in such a low-cut bodice. Olivia checked the time again on her combination watch/walkie-talkie.

She stuffed her room key in her bra and patted her right inner thigh just to make sure her Glock hadn't twisted around in its holster.

Suddenly the adjoining bedroom door opened and Peter Bishop appeared. After he closed the door behind him he turned toward Olivia and stopped dead in his tracks. An audible gasp escaped his lips. The makeover was incredible! Replacing the subtly-attractive, dark pantsuit-clad FBI agent with flaxen hair was an auburn-haired siren with a brightly-colored, form-fitting dress, platform shoes, and the most hauntingly blue eyes Peter had ever seen. He looked her over from head to toe trying not to stare at the generous amount of cleavage her dress revealed. It took all of his mental energy to focus on forming any phrase on his lips that did not include an anatomical term. "Are we ready?" _Losing your touch,genius, _he thought to himself.

It took Olivia Dunham a moment to realize Peter had said something that expected a reply.

She was watching him look her over. His eyes invading every visible part of her. She remembered her shock yesterday the second he stepped out of her bathroom, away from Agent Phelps and the makeshift disguise studio her bathroom had become. With the dirty blond hair, blue eyes, and scruff Peter looked a few years younger and a lot more dangerous. Standing before her with the addition of the wide-lapelled denim shirt and tight, black, bell-bottomed pants he looked like a Hollywood gigolo.

She had never realized a pair of pants could look that good on a man.

Olivia quickly stifled the laugh that tried to escape her throat with a cough. "Yeah." She couldn't hide the smile though. "Let's go hunt down Broyles." He thoughts quickly switched to work mode as her stomach audibly growled. She looked at Peter apologetically. "Sorry we didn't have any time for dinner. Maybe there will be food at the dance."

"We can only hope." Peter went through a mental checklist assuring himself he had attached at least one of his knives to his left calf and his illegally-acquired Luger to his right.

With a quick nod Olivia opened the door and headed out into the hall. Peter followed locking the door behind him. He watched her hips move in that dress as she started down the long, carpeted hallway.

Peter Bishop sighed. _On any other occasion this would be great fun, _he thought sadly to himself, and hurried to catch up with the curvaceous redhead.


	3. Chapter 3

**Here it is, the final chapter. A little history on this:**

**Months ago I had a big discussion on retro music with an older family member. Al Jarreau's name came up.**

**I had heard of him but didn't know his work. Research brought up "Golden Girl," and the words reminded me so much of Olivia.**

**As of this post, you can find "Golden Girl" on YouTube. Listen as you read and picture Al Jarreau's sexy voice added in the mix.**

**The first two sets of song lyrics are from "Golden Girl." The last are from KC&The Sunshine Band's "Get Down Tonight"-another timeless retro classic.**

**I still don't own Fringe. Mistakes here are mine.**

**If you enjoy this consider writing some undercover Bolivia (please!)**

Golden Girl-Chapter 3

They could hear the music as soon as Peter opened the door to the Kennedy Center. Next to the enormous cloak room was a sign that read "SGMSEC 70's & 80's Retro Dance Party."

"_Just great,"_ Peter mumbled to himself. _"Broyles better fucking show up."_ His blatant dislike for all things disco made him feel even more antsy than he already was, if that was possible. Olivia barely registered his words. She was standing behind Peter busy casing the scene around her.

Peter Bishop opened the inner door to a gigantic, poorly-lit ballroom filled with literally hundreds of people dressed like them in retro apparel, except for the dozen or so men of obvious Middle Eastern background.

Peter sighed audibly and adjusted his FBI-issue ear piece. "Needle in a haystack," he said aloud. Olivia barely heard his words in her ear piece as everything was drowned out by the booming bass and lyrics of "Get Down On It," being performed live by a band of middle-aged, African-American men up on the stage.

Stepping further into the room Peter and Olivia made a visual three hundred sixty degree inspection and realized they had their work cut out for them trying to spot Broyles. Who knew what the senior agent would be wearing? And would he actually show? Olivia was grateful Charlie had planted four other agents there. She squinted and looked for male disco dancers who could be agents.

As they moved towards the front of the ballroom and the stage, Peter spotted a young female waitress carrying a platter of hors d'oeuves on her shoulder. He moved and practically pounced on her. She stopped walking and pointed the tray at him, smiling. As quickly as he could Peter grabbed three of whatever it was she had. He wanted to throw one of the objects in his mouth but chivalry won out and he handed the first piece of what looked to be a bacon-wrapped scallop over to Olivia.

"Thanks," Olivia said, barely noticing what Peter had placed in her outstretched palm. Olivia Dunham was less than happy with the complexity of the scene surrounding them. She finally looked down at the food in her hand and raised it to her lips, grateful for sustenance. Peter watched her eat from the corner of his eye. He was finishing the last of his two scallops wondering if he could get more. He sensed she was thinking about how 'off' the entire day had been. Their plane had been very late and their taxi had been slow. Both of them were tired, hungry, thirsty, and frustrated. Running only on adrenaline and hope that they could spot Broyles, they walked on.

"You try the right side, I'll try the left. Let's meet up here in about six minutes," Peter shouted hoping his ear piece was working despite the din.

"Roger," Olivia yelled back.

Peter swept the expansive floor left to right and vice versa with his eyes as he slowly made his way to the far left-hand side of the ballroom. It was amazing how hundreds of people dressed in retro outfits could look so much alike. Olivia was thinking along those same lines as she searched her way over to the far right side. She had always prided herself on keeping her cool, but this situation was making her more frustrated by the minute.

Five minutes later Olivia recognized Peter's dirty-blonde hair from behind as he worked his way back to the center of the floor. As he turned to face her Peter gave her a defeated look, his green-hazel eyes intense. "Maybe the undercovers will spot him."

"Maybe," Olivia answered giving him a shy smile. "_If we were here but not working this would be fun,"_ she thought to herself.

As if on cue another waitress walked toward Peter this time carrying a tray of long-stemmed glasses filled with amber liquid sloshing about. Peter hurriedly grabbed two of them. He passed one over to Olivia who instantly took a huge gulp. "Champagne!" she choked out. For some reason Olivia hadn't expected champagne. She had consumed almost half her glass in one sip.

"Sure. This is a high class affair," he said sarcastically. "Sip it slowly and you'll be OK."

The words had barely left Peter's lips when he tilted his glass and downed the entire thing in practically one swallow in a vain attempt to fulfill his need for something liquid and calming. The waitress was still next to him when he grabbed two more glasses, one in each hand.

Olivia was watching him. "Are you OK?"

"Yeah," Peter chuckled. "Nothing a little bubbly can't fix."

"We're on the clock, you know," Olivia said defiantly.

"Relax, Dunham. It's just liquid. And you know when we work together we get oh so thirsty." Peter gave her a wink and that glorious smile of his. He downed the contents of the second glass in seconds.

"Right," Olivia said and then downed her second glass, not wanting to be outpaced. Peter watched as Olivia clicked back into work mode. "Let's go toward the back again and then hang out on the dance floor and look normal."

"Normal?!" Peter looked at her face and she smirked.

"I'll see you back here in five minutes."

"Yes, Boss." Without waiting to see her reaction to his words Peter took off on his own to scan the back half of the ballroom focusing on the exit doors. Around him people were dancing, people were talking, and the flow into and out of the side doors seemed endless. It was an increasingly frustrating situation, yet as the minutes ticked by Peter started feeling more relaxed. _The champagne, _he thought.

Peter found Olivia back at their spot on the floor taking sips from another long-stemmed glass.

In response to his raised eyebrows she said, "I just need to calm down a bit."

Peter moved into her personal space. "Hey. After you finish that let's dance. We'll blend in, and we can keep looking." Olivia nodded her head and finished her glass in one sip. She walked to the closest banquet table, set down the glass, and returned to Peter's side giving him a toothy grin.

He watched carefully as Olivia moved even closer. Outwardly she was all auburn hair but to him she was still golden. He wished he had taken a picture of her like this to tease her with later.

"What are you thinking about, Peter?"

Peter's cheeks reddened just slightly. He took her hand and pulled her backward into the web of dancers. "Shall we?" They did their best to move to the Donna Summers tune. Each of them was enjoying the other's company, despite the frustrating work situation.

Seconds later the song ended and the band began playing a slower song.

"Thank God," Peter said aloud. Olivia giggled. Without any thought he pulled Olivia closer and placed his arms around her back, his fingers touching each other, and the fabric of her dress. In response, Olivia wrapped her arms around Peter's neck and put her head on his shoulder. And then it hit her. The heady aroma of Peter Bishop. It was simply intoxicating, and she couldn't get enough of it. Olivia closed her eyes and gave in to the moment.

He knew they were slow dancing but Peter kept focusing on the unbelievable proximity of Olivia Dunham. The hard as nails FBI agent who could kick his ass was in his arms and literally wrapped around him. Peter closed his eyes and was assaulted by the smell of vanilla. Everything faded away except the feel of her and the words of the singer on stage. The music was so loud the lyrics throbbed in his brain. Peter pulled back a few inches and took the ear piece out of her ear and then his own, and stuck them in his pocket. Instantly they resumed their intimate positioning.

Her home is a jungle

A struggle to survive

Her street's too hot to handle

Makes your blood run cold as ice

But there's no evil strong enough

Her faith in love will rise above

Keep on shinin' golden girl

Light a candle for the world

Take your fire from inside

Warm the darkness-light the night

Bring your heaven to the ground

Never let them tear it down

So much soul when you're glowin' golden girl

Peter Bishop felt his insides tighten and a certain body part twitch. He felt strange. Lightheaded, breathless, and aroused. Aware of the beautiful woman in his arms. He tightened his grip on Olivia and pulled her flush against him. The singer started a second verse.

Her heart cries out yearning

For those without a prayer

But the dues she pays unending

Is the cross she chose to bear

And there's no evil strong enough

Her faith in love will rise above

Something snapped inside of him. He couldn't have stopped himself if he had tried.

Peter pushed Olivia back a few inches, her startled look not escaping him.

Taking a breath like he was about to dive into the Laurentian Abyss he placed his lips on hers.

There was a slight hesitation and then Olivia responded moving her lips against his. Peter felt like he was going to explode. His entire body was humming and vibrating, his heart pumping madly. Slowly Olivia opened her mouth to him and Peter explored every area five times over. Their slow explorations became quickened with need. Neither could hear he other's moans due to the song's volume. Several times they broke away to breathe but dove right back into that passionate kiss. Some small part of Peter' brain remembered they were in a public place. Otherwise he would have taken her then and there. Neither of them were aware of time passing by as they continued tasting and savoring each other.

Another slow song came and went but neither cared. It was only when Peter identified the beginning guitar riffs of KC & The Sunshine Band's "Get Down Tonight" that he pulled away and looked at Olivia. With her lips swollen from his kisses and her face reddened from his scruff she looked more beautiful than ever.

Olivia opened her eyes. There was Peter Bishop staring at her with the biggest smile she had ever seen on his face. Her lipstick canvassed several areas of his mouth. She smiled back at him. Before Olivia could even think about what had just happened Peter started laughing. And so did she. They couldn't stop.

After a few moments Peter shouted "'Livia, just a few moments more, OK?" Olivia shook her head and they moved in rhythm to the song.

Do a little dance

Make a little love

Get down tonight

Get down tonight

To their left about seventy yards away stood Charlie Francis. The suspect in the Williams case had surprisingly confessed, wrapping the whole thing up in a neat and tidy bow. Charlie was thrilled he was able to catch a quick flight from Springfield, Mass. To DC to help out his friends. He did a double take when he saw them start to kiss on the dance floor, but could certainly understand why. In addition to being an excellent agent his partner was a fine-looking woman. He wondered for a moment if that was their very first kiss, or if there had been others. And what made them break down and suck face in the middle of an undercover op? _Kids,_ he thought to himself shaking his head. "Any visuals yet?" he yelled hoping his men could hear him via his earpiece, as he walked off the dance floor toward the far left exit.

On the far right side of the ballroom Phillip Broyles walked briskly with his silver suitcase full of money toward the exit. He stopped briefly to turn around and see if Dunham and Bishop were still kissing. _Kids,_ he thought to himself laughing. He opened the door and disappeared out into the night.

The End

**Attention All:**

**Wouldn't it be fun to have a little FRINGE Fan Fiction Halloween Challenge?**

**Write a fic that has something scary/spooky/frightening in it. Can be just a hint to something substantial. Humor is wonderful too. Rate it K thru M.**

**Please post your story or stories by Monday, October 26, so we can all enjoy them before the holiday.**

**In your "summary" put in "FOR HALLOWEEN CHALLENGE." I'm not planning on judging, unless everyone replies that it should be done. ENJOY!!!**


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